Christ did not die to save us from suffering but from ourselves. He did not die to save us from injustice, far less from justice, but from being unjust.
He died that we might live — but live as he lives, by dying as he died, who died to himself that he might live unto God. If we do not die to ourselves, we cannot live to God. And he that does not live to God is dead.
— George MacDonald, Your Life in Christ, p. 149-150
Forgiveness involves handing over to God the responsibility for justice. The longer we hold onto it, the more it strangles us.
— Beth Moore, Praying God’s Word Day by Day, p. 73
Another important part of the miracle is Jesus’ concern for the fragments, because he is always concerned about the broken things, the broken people. Only when we realize that we are indeed broken, that we are not independent, that we cannot do it ourselves, can we turn to God and take that which he has given to us, no matter what it is, and create with it.
— Madeleine L’Engle, The Rock That Is Higher, quoted in Glimpses of Grace, compiled by Carole F. Chase, p. 63
If we believe that God has given us everything, then giving will be our way of living. We’ll still work to earn, because the gift of work is the primary means by which God gives what we have. But earning and possessing will become folded into giving. God gives us life, powers, abilities, and so we earn and possess. We’ll earn and possess so we can give, as when we share our food with the hungry; we’ll give even while earning, as when we create goods and offer services with dedication, care, and wisdom; and we’ll give even by possessing, as when we open our home for others to enjoy. Earning and possessing are not just a bridge between our desires and their satisfaction. They are a midpoint in the flow of gifts: from God to us, and through us to others. We give because we have been given to; we don’t let others simply fend for themselves because we haven’t been left to fend for ourselves.
— Miroslav Volf, Free of Charge:Â Giving and Forgiving in a Culture Stripped of Grace, p. 107-108
Great faith believes in God even when he plays his hand close to his vest, never showing all his cards. He has his reasons for doing so. God wants to increase your “measure of faith” (Romans 12:3). He does this whenever he conceals a matter, and you trust him nevertheless!
— Joni Eareackson Tada, Pearls of Great Price, February 19 entry
The core of God’s plan is to rescue us from sin and self-centeredness. Suffering — especially the chronic kind — is God’s choicest tool to accomplish this. It is a long process. But it means I can accept my paralysis as a chronic condition. When I broke my neck, it wasn’t a jigsaw puzzle I had to solve fast or a quick jolt to get me back on track. My paralyzing accident was the beginning of a lengthy process of becoming like Christ.
— Joni Eareckson Tada, Pearls of Great Price, February 17 entry
The ultimate goal of forgiveness, just as the ultimate goal of our whole lives should be, is to bring glory and honor to God.
Forgiveness in the life of a believer showcases the astounding, redemptive heart of God. It puts on display the riches of His abundant mercy and His amazing grace, for all to see….
Forgiveness is not just an act of obedience for obedience’s sake. Yes, we are commanded to forgive. And yes, we who have been forgiven so much certainly have no right to be debt collectors. But more than an obligation, forgiveness is a high calling — an opportunity to be part of something eternal, to shower back our gratitude to the One who forgave us everything….
Think of it as an offering, a sacrifice, a love gift to God . . . for Him and Him alone. If He adds to the blessing by causing our forgiveness to be of help to us or others, so much the better. But to know that He is pleased and praised — that is reason and reward enough.
— Nancy Leigh DeMoss, Choosing Forgiveness, p. 214-215
God is so amazingly generous. I ask, he gives. Just like that. I worry; he counsels me in the night. He molds my very heart in his hands and instructs me in his ways.
— Patty Kirk, Confessions of an Amateur Believer, p. 255
Today, though, I choose to worship a God whose justice is beyond my understanding in all particulars but this one that my children have taught me:Â God is not mean.
God gave me a husband who loves me and children who are not horribly sick and a job I like and a mother-in-law who passes on her cars to us for their bluebook prices and, two Sundays ago, eight newborn Labrador puppies who are just now opening their eyes…. God hears my prayers and answers them in my best interest, every one of them, although I sometimes don’t recognize that he has or agree with him about what my best interest might be….
God is not mean. He chose me, despite my own frequent meanness. He chose me when there were better people. Better mothers. Better writers. Better Christians. Better cooks, probably. There are so many others that he could have chosen, others that I hope he will choose, every one of them. And after he chose me he has kept on choosing me: rewarding me, reassuring me, burying me in blessings.
Our God, I have learned from my daughters, is the God of promises — promises of healing and happiness and all good things — for those who look forward to their own fulfillment. Promises available not only in the Word of God but in all creation, in newborn puppies with their eyes still closed and ditches and frothed milk and silly games. In children. In our ability to imagine heaven.
— Patty Kirk, Confessions of an Amateur Believer, p. 229-232
And so, I believe I’m wrong to expect disasters, which isn’t to say they won’t happen. But if they do, they won’t be payback, but rather — I try to believe this — new opportunities for God to show his very particular love for me.
— Patty Kirk, Confessions of an Amateur Believer, p. 226